Torn Between Two Worlds
by Angie Chick
Summary: Celeste is coming into some very strange and troubling powers, and the people of Xavier's Institute are trying to help her cope, but can she really handle the disturbing life she now must lead?
1. Chapter 1

Okay, I had a really elaborate dream set in the world of the X-Men, and I thought it was pretty interesting, so I decided to do a fanfic about it (when I started this, I'd been writing all day, and I have like eight un-edited pages worth of fanfic-cy crap :P ). I will do my very best to try to make sure it's not annoyingly Mary-Sue-ish or anything because the main character was actually me in the dream. Perhaps I'll make her personality a little different from mine or something to draw a line between us, so don't worry. Also, some of the characters are based off of real people (such as Jessica), so I have changed all names.  
I have only seen the movies and some episodes of X-Men: Evolution (fairly recent cartoon), so I'm going to take some liberties with people's ages and stuff. I will keep to the deaths that occurred in X3 and the whole Phoenix thing, but I will probably change some other plot aspects. Also, I am not well-versed in her power (there are non-mutant people in real life who claim to be able to do some of the things she will be able to do), so I'm going to do it as it pleases me. :P Hopefully it won't just be a one-shot because I didn't explain everything in the first chapter. :P

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters other than Celeste, Jessica, Will, the Turner family (and I actually probably don't own them because it's based off of a local legend :P ), or any other characters that I choose to make up at a later date, nor do I own the world in which this is set, no matter how much I would like to. I do, however, own a very nice shiny new penny I found lying on the ground this morning. So let's recap: X-Men - not mine, shiny new penny - mine. :P

"Hey, Celeste," said a tall Mexican girl as she sat down at the table by the cafeteria door where she always ate lunch with her friends. "A bunch of us are going to go hang out at Turner Cemetery this weekend for Halloween. Want to come?"

Celeste, a green-eyed girl with strawberry blond hair, looked up, a little skeptical, "What's so special about that place, anyway? Is it like really haunted or something? I'm not sure it's quite my cup of tea."

Jessica, the Mexican girl who had invited her, grinned slyly at the opportunity to spin a yarn and get a reaction out of her, "Scared? You should be. They say old man Turner was a big drinker, and one night he went totally crazy and killed his wife and kids, and then he killed himself. Strange things kept happening every time anyone tried to live in the Turner house, so they eventually tore it down to make the cemetery. Well, they tore most of it down; they couldn't get rid of the porch. They say he buried all the bodies underneath it before he committed suicide, and they all still haunt the area today. They even had to quit using the graveyard after a couple of decades because no one could visit their dead relatives without getting spooked."

"'Getting spooked'?" Celeste thought to herself. "I'm a chicken, but this sounds ridiculous."

She replied, "Okay, I'm in."

(this is my divider for scenes)

Celeste and half a dozen of her friends sat in the back of a truck as they drove down the tree-lined gravel road that led to Turner Cemetery. They were all having a good time laughing at each other and trying to make the night more terrifying. A low-hanging branch swept across the back of a boy named Will, and he screamed and jumped down flat onto the truckbed.

Everybody cracked up laughing.

"Dude, it's just a tree!"

"You scream like a chick, man!"

"Wow, I'm surprised you didn't pee your pants!"

Will regained most of his composure and sat up, "Give me a break! It could have been anything!"

"Yeah, like a ghost?"

"Ooo-eee-ooh!"

"Shut up!"

They all continued to laugh at him, but some, including Celeste, quieted down when they saw the rickety wooden sign that said "Turner Cemetery" in faded letters swaying slowly in the wind by the roadside a few yards ahead. The truck pulled into the makeshift driveway as the aim of the jesting spread from just Will to all of the more frightened-looking ones.

"Come on, it's just through these trees here. Are you sure you can make it? I hear it's pret-ty scary," said Jessica sarcastically as she grabbed a flashlight and hopped down.

Celeste stayed toward the back of the group as they all headed in because the supersititous part of her figured that anything that might actually be there would go for the first people it saw.

After they got through the brush, she wished for a flashlight, not only to calm the nerves that racketed from feeling lost in a place she'd never been before, but also because the night was darker than any other she could recall.

"Man, I'm getting chills over here!" came a voice from somewhere amidst the murk.

"It's almost November, and it's the middle of the night! It's supposed to be cold!" said Celeste, more for her own comfort.

"Then why is it colder in some areas than other, huh? Isn't that a sign of ghosts?"

"It's called wind!"

"I don't think so. . ."

She felt a chill and backed away from the area she thought was the source of the cold, but she moved so fast she stumbled over a tombstone and fell down. She felt around, and her hand rested on the edge of what seemed to be a large, flat concrete slab.

"Hey, guys, I think I found the por-"

But her voice stopped in her throat as she felt a terrible surge of cold and energy suddenly course through her entire body. She had shut her eyes at first because of the shock and pain, but she felt something icy on the sides of her head, so she pried her lids back open. She soon wished she hadn't.

The surge she had felt was nothing compared to what it became when she saw a hollow, sorrowful, terrified face inches from her own. The image became clearer, but Celeste's vision changed. Everything looked as though she was seeing the world through a film of moving water and a thin layer of fog being constantly blown by the breeze. It was a strange, and even terrifying, sensation for her, especially because she was looking straight at such a tortured face through this new lens.

The person in front of her was desperately grabbing at her (that was the cold she had felt on the sides of her head earlier, she realized), and they seemed to be trying to tell her something, but no sound was coming out of their mouth. Celeste strained her ears, but that seemed to make it harder for her to hear the person because at that very moment, she began to hear what seemed to be the ocean waves crashing on a shore, and everything gained an eery echo slightly.

It now sounded as though the woman, for Celeste finally gained her senses enough to realize that she was such, were whispering, even though she looked like she was screaming with all her might.

With the waves in her ears and the wind of the night blowing as hard as it could, she still couldn't understand the woman, so she strained even harder to get in touch with her. Suddenly, the cold, the energy, and the pain surged through her like never before, and she yelled out involuntarily.

The scream, which sounded nearly ethereal, seemed to last forever and extend to every crevice of the universe with its haunting tones that signified a torture beyond belief, and Celeste hardly believed that the sound came from herself.

With the pain and energy came a sudden new sense of awareness for her, for when it came, she could hear dozens of echoing voices simultaneously, some louder than others, but all, though they did seem distorted compared to what one considers a normal voice, were very clear to her.

One voice stood out to her more than any other. It was that of the woman who had been trying to get her attention this whole time.

A shudder went through Celeste's body now that she finally heard the sound that conveyed more agony and fear than she had ever felt in her life.

"We didn't do anything to him! He wants to kill us, but we didn't do anything to him! Why does he want to kill us? Oh, God, why? We didn't do anything to him!"

And then, to Celeste, everything went black.

If I decide to make Celeste's superhero ( :P ) name Phantom or something of that sort, that is a nod to my dear friend Ash, who loves The Phantom of the Opera even more than I do. ;D Her name was originally Christina (similar to Christine, no?), but I thought Celeste fit better. You'll see what I mean later on. :P 


	2. Chapter 2

Just a note: Rachel is not meant to be Rachel Summers, even though she has the same first name and some of the same powers. I just did a Google to make sure there was never an X-Men character named Rachel, and it was just a coincidence that there is. :P

Anyway, this first part isn't supposed to necessarily make total sense.

"We should take her to her parents."

"Not before we talk to her."

"He wants to kill my babies-"

"But why?"

"You should know how parents are-"

"He hates them; he's always hated them-"

"They deserve to know about this, don't they?"

"Of course they do, and they will know someday, but we can't choose when they know without her consent. We need to talk to her alone."

"I'm sorry, I'm just having trouble adjusting and understanding the way things are run."

"I don't know why he hates us; we never did anything to him-"

"You'll catch on soon enough and realize that there's a reason for everything, don't worry."

"He was mean today, too mean, much too mean-"

"Look, I think she's finally waking up. . ."

Celeste's head was pounding so much, all she wanted to do was lie still after she regained consciousness, but she knew she'd probably better open her eyes now that the sources of the conversation realized she was awake.

Her skewed senses hadn't been a dream, she realized, for she still had the strange sensation that she was in the ocean and on dry land at the same time, though it wasn't quite as extreme as it had been.

"How do you feel, Celeste?" asked a tall black woman with white hair.

"Delirious. And a little nauseated."

"Are you feeling odd at all after what happened last night?"

"How do you know what happened? You weren't there, were you?"

"We'll explain that later. But first you need to tell us if you feel any different."

Celeste rubbed her ears tenderly, for the sound of the waves almost sounded like panicked breathing to her, and that reminded her all too much of the terrified woman she encountered the night before.

"Yeah, I do feel pretty weird, as a matter of fact. My sight and my hearing. . ."

"Do you feel like you're not totally here? Like everything is behind a wall of some sort?"

"Yes, that's exactly it. What's weird is how my vision is blurred, and everything sounds muffled, but I can still see details and hear words and intonation perfectly clearly."

"Please, God, don't let him get us-" came a panicked whisper from Celeste's right.

"What was that? What did you say?" she said, turning to the other woman in the vecinity.

"Hmm? I didn't say anything."

"Never mind. . ."

"I'm Storm, by the way, and this here is Rachel," said the black woman.

"Storm? What kind of name is that?"

"My given name is actually Ororo, but everybody calls me Storm."

"Why? Bad temper or something?"

"Do you watch the news much, Celeste?"

"Enough. Why?"

"Have you heard that there are special schools out there for mutants?"

"So you guys are mutants? Are you saying I'm a mutant? What's my power, fish vision or something?"

Storm smiled, "They call me Storm because I can control the weather. Rachel here is a moderate telepath and telekinetic, and with the help of a machine an old friend of mine built, she can sometimes figure out who mutants are and what some of their powers are. You are a mutant, a quite powerful one, in fact. We're not entirely sure what you may be able to do or learn to do, but we do have an idea of what your powers revolve around.

"You seem to be able to partially, or maybe even entirely someday, enter a separate plane of existence. From what we know, matter cannot exist there as it does here, and it is closer to the plane we live on than almost any other. They may practically intersect, actually, and we think that's how you manage to be in both at once. Does this make sense to you?"

"So I'm--I'm a medium to. . . some sort of. . . spirit world?"

"That is what we suspect, yes, and you seem to be an unusually strong one, as well."

"And you want me to come to this school of yours?"

"If that's what you want. We can help you adjust and grow."

"How will I tell my parents about all this?"

"You don't have to right away. It tends to be hard for some people to explain when it's new to them too."

"Then how would I go to this school of yours?"

"You could tell your parents that you're coming to a prep school the two of us run. They want you to go to college someday, I assume?"

"Of course. But what do you mean by 'the two of you'?"

"Rachel and myself."

"But I heard three voices when I came back to consciousness. . ."

"We're in our jet on the ground in the middle of nowhere right now. You, me, and Rachel are the only ones for miles."

Celeste listened closely.

"I still hear it. It's more of a mumble. . . or a. . . a whisper, now. . ."

She looked around, and her eyes fell on the corner to her right, where a terrified woman was sitting in a fetal position sobbing.

Shaking, Celeste walked cautiously toward her. The lady was pure white and translucent, the exact stereotype of a spirit.

"Are-Are you Mrs. Turner?"

"I wish I'd never married that man. . ."

"Do you need some help?"

"Get him away from me. . ."

Celeste looked around, but she couldn't see, hear, or sense anyone else.

"Mrs. Turner, where do you think you are?"

She really didn't seem to be fully aware of Celeste's presence, for she just continued to speak incoherently about "him".

"Crap, I have to tell her. I hope she takes it well. . ." Celeste thought to herself.

"Um, Mrs. Turner? I'm afraid that you're-that you're dead."

She glanced up at her for a moment and went back to mumbling fearfully.

"He can't hurt you anymore. Not you or your children."

That got her attention.

"Did he leave?"

"He's long gone."

"He won't hurt us no more?"

"You never have to worry about him again."

The woman didn't look quite peaceful or happy, necessarily, but she stared blankly into space, and she didn't look so frightened anymore.

"He's gone. . . He-He's gone. . . He's gone. . . Gone. . ."

She closed her eyes, and in a moment, there was no trace of her.

"I don't believe this. . ."

Rachel put a hand on her shoulder, "Was it a spirit?"

"Yeah. . . She disappeared. . ."

"I think we can all guess what that means. You have an amazing gift," she smiled.

"You know, I think I would like to go to that school of yours. . . Learn a bit about my powers and myself. . ."

Storm put a hand on her other shoulder, "There's just one more thing we need to tell you."

She walked to the cockpit and came back a moment with a compact mirror. Celeste opened it up and gasped.

Her once completely golden hair was now streaked with locks of pure white, and her right eye was the same unsaturated color and was pupil-less, though her other eye was normal, and though her skin hadn't been exactly tanned before, she looked almost corpse-like with it's new paleness. She practically looked like a solid ghost.

"Your friends said that you were convulsing tremendously, and then you started to glow, and there was a powerful force of some sort surrounding you, and when the light dimmed, you looked like this. One of them compared you to an angel."

"My friends saw what happened?"

"Yes. We talked to them to get the details. I had Rachel modify their memories for your sake, though."

"Thanks. I suppose all this would've been kind of hard to explain to them."

"How are you doing, honey?"

"I'll live. If I'm still alive, that is," she eyed her eerie reflection once more.

Wow, really long chapters for me. What's funny is I'm usually horrible with dialogue. :P 


End file.
